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It was a sunny Sunday afternoon in May 1943 at RAF Northcoates. The officers were playing the NCO's in a rugby match and I had a date in Grimsby to look forward to. All was well with the world when the Tannoy sounded summoning all aircrew to the operations room. It must have been one of the most colourful briefings ever held with those in their normal blue battledress outnumbered by the players in rugby shirts.

The station commander reported that the target for the Strike Wing of Beaufighters from 143, 256 and 254 squadrons was the German cruiser 'Nuremberg' with an escort of 4 destroyers which was reported to have left Bergen in Norway and was steaming south. This was a formidable target and there were plenty of white faces as we all left the briefing to change and have a meal. I kept my rugby kit on underneath my battledress, white sweater and flying boots. We had a huge breakfast and after another detailed briefing we headed out to our aircraft. We were scheduled to return to Wick in Scotland as our range was insufficient to get us back to Northcoates.

We took off at 7.30 p.m. and as we passed over the fence at the end of the runway we got plenty of waves from half the population of the village. The roar of 35 Beaufighters running up was sufficient for them to down tools and run down the road to see us off. We formed up over Spurn Head with the torpedo Beaus in the front and the fighter bombers on the flanks and across the rear. All the aircraft were fully armed with 4 cannons, eight machine guns and two 250 lb bombs. Ten of them carried torpedoes.

We crossed the North Sea at 100 feet to avoid radar detection. Our destination was Kristiansand which was the furthest point the ships could have reached if they had continued to steam south. The object was to catch the ships on the beam giving the torpedo aircraft the full length of the ships as their target. There was no sign of them at Kristiansand so we headed round the coast to Stavanager where we spotted the convoy at anchor about a mile outside the port.

Their position prevented a beam attack due to the mountains behind the port. As soon as we were spotted they opened fire and at 100 feet it was terrifying sight. A withering wall of fire met us and it seemed impossible for any aircraft to go through it and come out the other side intact. We were committed to the attack and we blazed through with all guns firing and dropped our bombs. Six planes were shot down immediately over the target. By some miracle we passed over the convoy unharmed but our troubles were by no means over. We were staggered to see about 20 Messerschmitt and Focke-Wolfe fighters coming at us from the east. Some of the leading Beaufighters having completed their attack were hotfooting it back to Wick and it was those of us left at the rear of the formation who took the full brunt of the attack from the fighters. We too headed for Wick but were followed by three Messerschmitts. We had no rear firing armament so were were in serious trouble. No matter which way we turned they stuck with us. A hail of cannon fire ripped into our engines and within seconds we were reduced to a very heavy glider. My pilot Vic yelled the ominous word 'ditching'. We were about 40 miles from the coast when we struck the water hard. At 10 tons, a Beaufighter wasn't designed to float for very long and we had less than a minute to get out. We soon found out that practicing ditching on dry land was far removed from the real thing. The heavy and cumbersome survival pack was stowed behind my navigator's seat but it had been smashed in the attack and twisted metal prevented me from extricating it so it had to be abandoned. Vic and I climbed out through the cupola on the roof and down onto the wing. The dinghy had been released automatically and was sitting on the water waiting for us. Vic had cut his leg and head in the rush to get out and in spite of being firmly strapped in I had lost six teeth although I hadn't realised it at the time.

We cut the rope attaching the dinghy to the aircraft and paddled away furiously to avoid being sucked under when the Beau sank which she did after about a minute. When the bubbles and foam had subsided the silence was unbearable. I had never felt as lonley in my whole life as I did at that moment. I looked at my watch and it had only been seven minutes from when we had first sighted the convoy.

We took stock of our assets and as the survival kit had been lost that job didn't take very long. We had forty cigarettes, a box of matches and 12 Horlicks tablets. The outlook was to say the least grim. Vic was groggy from the bang to his head and his leg was bleeding. We could see the mountains behind Stavanger and decided to try to keep the dinghy in the same position we had been in when we ditched. The sea was choppy and after an hour we were both soaked to the skin. We were afraid to go to sleep but we eventually dozed off for a couple of hours. When we woke the dinghy was half full of water which meant a long session of baling out.

That first night was the longest of my life. We slept fitfully and woke at dawn to find the sea had calmed down but we were surrounded by a thick blanket of fog. We had a Horlicks tablet for breakfast and started to think about the effect of the dreaded telegrams which would by now have been dispatched to Vic's wife and my parents. All it would say was 'missing in action'.

Monday passed very slowly. The sea became choppy again but the little dinghy rode it well. We blessed the chap who had designed it. Our legs, feet and hands were frozen and the effects of exposure were creeping up on us quickly. We reckoned another day would see us finished but we tried to keep up our hopes.

We spent another terrible night, hardly sleeping at all. We woke totally drained and still very wet. Mercifully the sun was shining and the sea was flat calm. We had another Horlicks tablet and a smoke and started to feel a little better. Our clothes had become very heavy with the salt water and we were developing sores where the rough cloth had chafed on our skin. The day dragged on and by nightfall our spirits had sunk again. We were desparately thirsty and all we had eaten since breakfast on Sunday were four Horlicks tablets each.

We slept soundly and woke at 8 a.m. on Wednesday morning to the sound of aircraft engines. We stood up (not a good idea in a dinghy) and blew our whistles as loudly as we could, God knows why because noone could hear us. The aircraft came nearer until at last we could see it. I got out the pad of fluorescent dye and threw it in the water and within seconds we were surrounded by a deep yellow stain. I got the two flares from the pack on the side of the dinghy and released the ring pulls which with my frozen weak fingers was easier said than done. Red and green flares shot up into the sky and after an agonizing wait the aircraft turned towards us and we raised a pitiful cheer. The plane passed over us and a silver object came hurtling towards us. It looked like a bomb! It hit the sea about ten yards away and we were quickly enveloped in a thick cloud of red smoke. By the time it had dispersed the plane, a Heinkel 159 was almost on top of us. A hatch opened and our rescue had begun. Our prayers had been answered.

A ladder was lowered but we were both so weak we couldn't climb up it. Two of the crew came down and dragged us up with boat hooks. We must have looked a mess, wet and covered in red dust. The Germans stripped us of all our clothing and they were somewhat bemused to see that I was wearing my blue and white rugby kit underneath my battledress. They poured a complete bottle of schnapps over each of us and beagn to rub us down with towels which felt like sandpaper. They knew what they were doing and we soon began to feel the circulation returning to our frozen limbs. They dressed us in tracksuits with the Luftwaffe Eagle and Swastika on the front and tended to Vics cuts and bruises as best they could. The crew had said nothing until one of them blurted out the familiar 'for you der var iss over'. I would have thought that was pretty bloody obvious.

We landed at the seaplane base in Sola near Stavanger and on leaving the aircraft we were each held up by two hefty Germans to have our photographs taken. An ambulance took us to the base hospital where we were both checked over and treated with great kindness and compassion. That was followed by a huge meal of meat and vegetable soup followed by cake and as much coffee as we could drink. They even took our black leather flying boots away which came back dried and polished.

We were put to bed and we slept soundly for twelve hours.

To be continued in part two............

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